Running
by agentcalliope
Summary: She never stops, never rests, and she always runs. (metaphorically, of course. She runs and she runs and she runs but Daisy's not really a ghost and the real ones haunt her instead) or Daisy's on her own until suddenly, for a second, she isn't.


She's a ghost- or at least she tries to be.

Wearing different clothes and a black wig and dark makeup, she floats between cities and countries, sometimes keeping to herself and sometimes leaving with the ground shaking in her wake. She dodges Coulson and Mack and everyone else who reminds her of who she was and what she _did_ , but Daisy never lets them catch her, slipping from their grasp like wisps of air and spirit.

She never stops, never rests, and she always runs.

(metaphorically, of course. She runs and she runs and she _runs_ but Daisy's not really a ghost and the real ones haunt her instead)

She's running now- literally, this time. Darting into alleyways and across streets as she tries to outrun the police in their cars, her heavy backpack thumping on her back and the rest of the stacks of bills burning holes within her pockets. Daisy can't help but curse the crowds that swarm the area, making it impossible to use her abilities so she could shake the police off her tail.

She's done it before, in the bank just moments ago, and the bank before this one and the one before that.

But she makes sure that the banks are as empty as possible to reduce casualties, and she barely keeps the money for herself anyway, giving it all to Charles' wife and his little girl because no matter how much she runs, Daisy can't run away from her vow.

(she knows that keeping this promise is a reminder of who she was and what she did and maybe it's how she can't fully become a ghost, but she figures at least one small part of the old Daisy Johnson should survive)

(she owes _him_ that much)

The sirens fade and soon the air only hangs with boisterous chatter as she slows down, keeping her head low and shoving her hands into her pockets, thumbing through the money. Moving with the flow of the crowd and the strangers who match her pace, Daisy pants and tries to calm her beating heart and lower the adrenaline that course through her veins. She tries to swallow, but her throat feels brittle and dry and a bitter taste settles in her mouth.

Looking at her watch and then back up toward the sweltering sun high in the sky, Daisy realizes that the pangs of hunger have been there for a while, but she hadn't noticed.

Her throat is dry and her stomach is empty, and these can be easily remedied.

(the hole in her heart, however, is a different matter)

She spots a café sign etched with years of use, and without faltering Daisy steps into the doorway; abruptly hit with such delicious and delightful smells she can't stop herself from inhaling deeply and closing her eyes.

But then she opens them.

And suddenly she can't breathe.

The café is full of patrons and customers, but it's not really a surprise that she notices them right away.

It's been months since Daisy's seen them, but they haven't changed one bit- his hair is still short, cheeks lined with scruff which makes him look older and her hair is still shoulder-length, eyes lined with light makeup which makes her look older too.

But that's not why Daisy can't breathe.

She can't breathe because Fitz and Jemma are sitting in a booth in a café in a city where there's no reason for them to be, and somehow she's here too.

She can't breathe because across the room she watches as Fitz cocks his head to the side, grinning that cheeky grin of his at Jemma who throws back her head and laughs like Daisy hasn't heard in years.

She can't breath because when Jemma finishes laughing, she leans forward and Fitz leans forward and then they're both leaning over the table and their mugs of tea and they're kissing.

They're kissing and Jemma's hands reach up to touch his cheeks lined with scruff and Fitz's right hand brushes her hair that's still shoulder-length, tucking it behind her ear.

Daisy wants to run. She wants to run and run and run but she feels frozen in place. She doesn't move a muscle as she watches her two best friends kiss and pretend that the world doesn't exist and that they're the only ones left.

Fitz and Jemma break apart, and even though Daisy is still standing in the doorway and they're in a booth across the café, the look in their eyes makes hers' tear.

They've always been in love-

But now they _see_ it.

They see it and they know it and they are never going back to before.

She loves them so much. She loves them and she misses them so much that she just wants to race over and take them in her arms and never let them go but she can't be who she was because of what she did, and Daisy suddenly realizes that she doesn't even deserve to witness their happiness.

(Daisy's also diseased, and she doesn't want to infect them, too)

She blinks rapidly, turning around and heading out the door before Fitz and Jemma notice her, walking briskly away into the throng of strangers.

She's merging into the crowd and wonders if it's like she's disappearing from view, becoming an apparition hidden amongst the living; people with lives and loved ones and families.

She had a family once, one not bonded with blood but with love.

Memories swirl and take flight.

Memories of Fitz and Jemma, Coulson and May, Mack and Yo-yo and Joey and Bobbi and Hunter-

Daisy thinks of Lincoln, her heart pounding in her chest and tears finally streaking down her cheeks.

Bowing her head and shoving her hands in her pockets, squeezing her eyes as tightly as she can, Daisy strolls, but metaphorically runs, away.

She'll keep running until she can really become a ghost, or at least escape the ghosts and the living that chase her.

They can't do it forever.

(but neither can she)


End file.
